lust: a follow up meditation

It is as though I have two heartbeats. This is how you make me feel. You give me fucking tachycardia, and then in a breath, my heart softens. I want you to lay with me; I want you to read to me. I want to read to you. Soak up Johnny Cash’s entire catalogue with … Continue reading lust: a follow up meditation

Providore

There is no indecision. Just the untangling of hair you manage to do so elegantly just as your door rises akimbo to the air.   The clang of chain takes a crack at chipping away your softness, but nothing can touch you.   You graft to my pupil; that absence of fear swimming in your eyes; sailing … Continue reading Providore

lust: a short meditation

You've mapped me with your mouth and breath - the topography always new when you put your tongue to work   it makes us and it breaks us   Bones ache from inattention, but you know when I need reopening. You always call after liquor; I try to get on the other side of you … Continue reading lust: a short meditation

Poetry in a record store (kinda like love in an elevator)

Tonight I was one of the blessed few who sidled into Jet Black Cat Music - a darling record store in West End (fuck, I love my community!!) - where performance poets Eleanor Jackson and Betsy Turcot performed their heart and souls out in 'She Stole My Every Rock and Roll' as part of Brisbane's … Continue reading Poetry in a record store (kinda like love in an elevator)